


The Dewdrop Chronicles

by Miso



Category: SCTV (Canada TV)
Genre: (yes its depicted im sorry), Childbirth, Fluff, Incoming A+ Parenting, M/M, Team Mom Edith Prickley, Trans Male Character, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vaginal Sex, emetophobia warning, the plotbunny wouldnt leave me alone im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-11 14:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10467414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miso/pseuds/Miso
Summary: He said they had nothing to worry about. If only he knew how wrong he was. (This fic is going to cover an entire pregnancy from conception to birth. Hopefully not in real time.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WELP. this is going to be somewhat similar to the fic i co-authored with curlypeakism, "what to expect when you're expecting (and a demon king needs to be reborn)," which you can read in the ghostbusters category. the first chapter involves some largely plotless (and graphic) porn, it's probably gonna be mostly fluff from here on out. i did ask one of my trans guy friends about terminology for genitalia- if any of it is wrong or offensive, i apologize, and let me know so i can fix it!

Frantic performance sex always seemed to be their favorite pastime once Bobby returned from his latest series of shows outside the Melonville area. After all, there was only so much phone sex one could have before they started longing for the real thing. At least Sammy thought so.

It was a relief to feel the bed under him as opposed to the door, though. Those horrible tacky jewel doorknobs Bobby insisted on having dug into his skin like crazy and left bruises. Funnily enough, he found them harder to explain than the hickeys. At least with those, he could say there was a make-out session that got a little intense. The doorknobs, well... what was he going to say? They couldn't make it to the bed before they fucked? Yeah, no, something about that sounded bad to him. He couldn't put his finger on what, but something about it rubbed him the wrong way.

Didn't stop Sammy from arching into Bobby's touch, however, limbs trembling as he tugged at Bobby's belt. "Goddammit, baby," he whispered, gasping as his neck was bitten gently. "Ffffffuck..."

"I'm planning on it, sweetheart, be patient." Bobby smirked against his skin and barely held back a laugh at the frustrated groan he got from Sammy in return. "You're so easy to tease." He pulled back long enough to remove Sammy's shirt, licking his lips and leaning in to kiss his collarbone. Sammy whimpered and somehow managed to coordinate his hands long enough to unbuckle and remove Bobby's belt. "You're desperate, aren't you?"

"Yesss..." That low hiss sent shivers down Bobby's spine. Sammy gripped Bobby's ass and pulled his hips down, grinding his hard-on against him. "God, I need this," he murmured, gasping and biting his lip to hold back further noise as Bobby's mouth made contact with his sensitive nipples. Stubble scraped against his skin and hands wandered, and he found himself gripping Bobby's still-clothed shoulders. "Herschel, goddammit, please!"

"Be patient," Bobby repeated as soon as he let Sammy's nipple out of his mouth, sliding off his jacket and unbuttoning his shirt. Not that that ever took long; Sammy was pretty sure Bobby had made a decision somewhere along the line to never button more than three or four buttons on his shirts. He wasn't complaining... much. Sure, having a half-naked Bobby Bittman was nice, but he could feel Bobby's hard-on pressing against him, straining through those fire engine red pants of his, and he would have given anything to just rip the rest of their clothes off and get fucked so hard he forgot his name and where he was.

"You're so hard," Sammy whispered, reaching down between them and stroking Bobby's clothed cock. "Goddamn... y'know how bad I've wanted you...? Since y'left for Toronto it's been awful lonely around here..." Sammy purred and snaked his tongue up the shell of Bobby's ear. "I had to use the damn bath faucet to get off the other day."

"Don't you have-"

"Y'can only use a vibrator so many times 'til it either gets old or the batteries die, Bobby." Sammy tangled his hands in Bobby's hair. He loved that he was the only person allowed to do that. It made him feel kind of powerful. "I need you. Please." He slid his hands down and unzipped Bobby's pants, raising his eyebrows when he was immediately greeted with his cock. "No underwear today?"

"Sh-shut up," Bobby murmured, shuddering as Sammy gave his dick an achingly slow stroke. "Y-you didn't have a binder on."

"Mmmh, no one's seein' me today but you. And it ain't like you don't know they're there." Sammy smirked as Bobby bit his lip and exhaled heavily as he thumbed the head of his cock, sweat already beading on Bobby's skin. "God, you're sensitive," he teased, stopping his touches to unbutton his own pants and nudge them down. Bobby took the momentary pause to finish what Sammy started, casting his trousers to the ground.

"You planning on leaving your underwear on?" Bobby asked, sliding his hand under the waistband of Sammy's boxers. "That could make things kinda difficult, sweetheart." He relished the low moan just making contact with his boyfriend's lips earned him. Jesus, he really was worked up. "You're wet as hell."

"No fucking shit," Sammy responded, letting out a quiet whimper as a finger slipped inside him. "God, Bobby, stop that! You know I'm fuckin' horny!"

"I do." Bobby took his hand out of his boyfriend's underwear and gently pulled them down, discarding them over his shoulder somewhere. He didn't particularly care where they landed as long as they weren't on Sammy's person anymore. He looked absolutely gorgeous. His cheeks were pink, his chest heaving and his limbs trembling. "God, sweetheart," Bobby whispered, his hand travelling down Sammy's side to his hip. "You look incredible."

"I'd look better with you in me."

"Alright, alright, point taken." Bobby smiled a little and began reaching for the lube in his nightstand, only to be stopped. "... What's up, babe?"

"Don't need it. You had your hand down there, you know what the situation is." Sammy gave Bobby's hand a gentle squeeze. "Come on." Bobby was quiet for a second, then nodded and licked his lips. He kissed Sammy's cheek softly, then smirked as he began moving down his body. Neck, collarbone, chest, stomach, and finally the real prize. He nudged Sammy's thighs further apart and pressed a kiss to his hipbone.

"Seriously?!" Sammy half-whined and half-groaned, frustratedly running his hand through his hair. "A-at least _do something_ while you're fuckin' down there, Jesus Chri- ohhhh, god..." His complaints were cut off as Bobby licked a slow line just to the side of where he really wanted him before going in for the kill and giving his clit a slow lick. His head fell back against the pillows and his nerves sang as he tangled one hand in the sheets and the other in Bobby's hair. "Fuck..." Sammy trembled as Bobby switched back and forth between the techniques he knew best- gentle kitten licks, plunging his tongue in just so and thumbing the sensitive bundle of nerves just north of his mouth, and focusing 100% on the clit. Sammy's grip on his hair tightened, his whimpers and cries grew more high-pitched, and Bobby barely kept himself from smiling as Sammy cried out wordlessly and bucked his hips, holding his head in place with a firm grip as he rode out his orgasm.

Bobby moved back once Sammy let him, a triumphant and somewhat smug grin on his face as Sammy trembled wildly. He wiped his chin and crawled atop his partner. "Was that enough doing something for you, sweetheart?" he asked, as Sammy's breathing returned to its normal tempo and his muscles stopped their twitching and trembling. "I didn't wear you out, did I?"

Sammy's eyes were nearly black with desire. The look on his face said it all- no, he wasn't worn out. In fact, he would have killed someone for more. Bobby leaned down and kissed Sammy softly, aligning their hips and pressing his cock home. He broke the kiss to let out a soft groan that almost sounded relieved, as Sammy wrapped his arms around his neck and echoed his vocalization. "Fuck... you have no idea how bad I missed that."

"You an' me both, sugar," Sammy replied, gazing into Bobby's eyes, feeling his heart leap in response. "Please..."

"You don't have to ask twice," Bobby mumbled, thrusting softly at first. He knew Sammy loved it when he started slow. Slow, gentle, working his way up to pounding him senseless. More than once he'd left the bedroom with raised red scratches across his back and shoulders and his ears ringing, but it had been totally worth it. He increased his pace slightly as nails dug into his skin, the room full of the sounds of slapping flesh and their voices slowly rising and mingling. Fuck, Sammy was something else. He'd had plenty of people before this- men, women, everyone- but Sammy? He was special. Sammy felt so much during sex. He'd writhe and squirm and rock his hips up to meet Bobby's, the way he was doing right now.

"F-fuck, Bobby," Sammy whimpered, clinging to his partner tight. He barely muffled another cry in Bobby's shoulder as he shuddered his way through his second orgasm, fists clenched tight and toes curling. Cute. Bobby kissed Sammy's neck in a particularly sensitive spot right below his jawline, loving the moan this pulled from Sammy's lips.

The moment felt like it would never end, like an eternity had passed by the time Bobby felt his cock twitch and became acutely aware of the fact he wasn't going to last much longer. "Babe," he panted, gently digging his fingertips into Sammy's hips. "God, I-I'm close, baby..."

Sammy nodded a little, reaching down and rubbing himself gently. "I-I can tell..." he responded, shuddering. Bobby loved watching him come. The fact that tonight had been a triple was impressive- Sammy must have been horribly pent up, even after the implication of some "enjoyment" of the faucet in the bathtub.

"D-do you want me to pull out?"

"Ugh, god, no, you KNOW I don't!" Sammy wrapped his legs around Bobby's waist and held him in deep, crying out as that one spot Bobby only ever seemed to find by accident was brushed. He whimpered as the contractions squeezed Bobby's length out of him, quickly reaching down and guiding him back in. "P-please, you know we ain't got nothin' to worry about, just do it!"

His timing was pretty impeccable. Bobby let out a high-pitched moan and stilled, panting as he rode out the waves of ecstasy. He shuddered a little and smiled up at Sammy once he had finished, all dark cocoa eyes and onyx curls. He looked so handsome like this. Sammy giggled a little and stroked Bobby's cheek gently. "Your hair's a mess."

"Your everything is a mess." Bobby pulled out slowly, hissing softly, and lay beside his beloved. "God. I needed that..."

"Mmm."

A pause. "Sweetheart?"

"What?"

"You're sure we have nothing to worry about?"

"Pft. C'mon, the odds can't be high."

"... But it's not impossible."

Sammy rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around Bobby. "I ain't gonna get pregnant. Quit worryin' and get some sleep. Y'know you take it out of me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dr. Estevez has some big news to share with Sammy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am banging out these chapters like no one's business. This keeps going I'll actually have this fic finished in less than an eternity, which is more than I can say for most multi-chapter works I've taken on by myself.

Something was off. He couldn't quite put his finger on what, but something was off.

Sammy pondered a moment as he reclined on his dressing room couch. What had he done differently lately? His chest had been sore; maybe he was wearing his binder too long? No, that couldn't be it. He imposed a strict 10-hour limit on himself so he didn't crush his ribs, but even that was longer than his doctor had really recommended. Maybe he should just wear one of the really tight sports bras he had for workouts sometimes instead, just in case. Sammy made a mental note of that and returned to his original train of thought.

He'd been kind of fatigued lately, too. He never really did get enough sleep, but he didn't think it was that big of an issue. He could just down a few cups of coffee and get on with his day in the mornings. But mornings were an issue, too. He hadn't thrown up in a couple of days, but he woke up feeling sick most of the time. Maybe it was a stomach bug. The coffee didn't really help.

He paused and thought a little longer. He hadn't done anything differently. There was no way anything else could be wrong. But maybe, just maybe, it would be good to see a doctor. Just in case there was something really, really wrong, and he hadn't figured it out yet.

***

"Are you sure you haven't done anything differently recently?" The doctor asked, quirking an eyebrow at his clipboard and chewing the end of his pen thoughtfully. Dr. Jorge Estevez was nothing if not a massive help most of the time. After all, he was the person making sure his patients were on the proper hormones and scheduling any surgeries they may elect to have. Having seen him for decades, Sammy was fairly certain Dr. Estevez knew him better than he knew himself. Even if he wasn't a good doctor, trans people in Melonville didn't have much of a choice. He was the only practitioner who would provide them with his services. Fucking small town.

"I swear. I just don't feel right." Sammy nudged a curly lock of hair behind his ear and crossed his legs. "Like... I don't even know the right word. Somethin' just feels off." Dr. Estevez nodded and scribbled something down on the clipboard.

"Okay, here's the thing. From your description of your symptoms, I think I have a hunch, but I want to make sure." Dr. Estevez stood and opened a cupboard, handing Sammy a plastic cup out of one. "I'm going to need a urine sample."

"Can't y'all just tell me I got a stomach bug an' send me home?"

"No." Dr. Estevez could be surprisingly deadpan when he wanted to be. He'd be right at home at SCTV. "You know where the bathroom is. The nurse'll take the sample when you're done."

With a defeated sigh, Sammy stood and walked to the bathroom, turning the sink on in hopes of getting this overwith faster.

***

"Well," Dr. Estevez began, returning to the exam room after a bit, "My suspicions were correct." He sat down and looked Sammy in the eye. "Tell your fiance to start buying diapers."

"... What." Sammy's response couldn't have been flatter if he tried. His blood ran cold for a second, and he felt his stomach churn. Diapers? Why the hell would they need to buy diapers?

"You're pregnant, Sammy."

"No." Sammy laughed softly, nervously. "No, no, there's gotta be a mistake. I can't be."

"You can and you are." Dr. Estevez set his clipboard aside and leaned forward. "You can still get pregnant on testosterone. You know that."

"But... I haven't had a regular period in-"

"You're still ovulating. Your uterus and ovaries still function. I told you that you can conceive on testosterone. Remember?"

Shit. No. Sammy hadn't remembered that. He slumped forward a little, his expression one of desperation and disbelief. "... No," he sheepishly admitted. Fuck. "Oh, god, what am I gonna tell Bobby...?"

"You don't have to tell him anything just yet. I want to perform an ultrasound and see how far along you are, first. When did you have unprotected sex?"

"Um. Middle of July?" Sammy's head was spinning. He felt like he was going to faint, and it was hard to think back to the last time he and Bobby had made love. It had been a while. Mid-July, and now it was nearly October. Goddammit. Dr. Estevez nodded wordlessly, stood, and stepped into the hall. For a few agonizing minutes, Sammy was alone with his thoughts. He groaned and tangled his hands in his hair, his thoughts and heart racing. 'Pregnant' was not a word he was planning to hear. Not really one he wanted to hear, either.

He closed his eyes in an attempt to get his bearings and calm down. Okay. It's alright. He could handle this. He had options. He thought he did, anyway, he remembered the furor about Roe v. Wade almost 10 years ago and how relieved some of his friends had been when it was set into law. Hell, he himself had been relieved on their behalf. He'd never thought he'd be in this situation himself.

But at the same time, thinking about an abortion made him nauseous. So did the thought of giving birth. Sammy wasn't sure which was worse. He knew Bobby didn't particularly care for children. Hell, Sammy didn't either. They were loud and dirty and smelled funny and never left him alone when he had to deal with them. His nieces and nephews were cute, sure, but he could pass them back off to his brothers when he needed a break. This was HIS baby, his flesh and blood, and there would be no handing it off to someone else. No breaks. Mama Maudlin had always told him it was different when it was your own kid, but Sammy had a hard time believing that, considering she also told him his first period was "a blessing" and meant he was "blossoming" even when she knew perfectly well he wanted nothing to do with it.

He curled in on himself and felt the panic rising inside him. He hated this. It usually only happened when things were too loud or bright or any number of other overstimulating things, but every now and then... he whimpered and tried to focus on anything except his own fear. Anything. He couldn't find anything, not even the ability to ground himself in the moment. The moment was fucking terrifying. He was starting to hyperventilate when the door opened and a nurse stepped in. "Sammy, sweetie? They're ready for the ultrasound." She paused and observed him a moment. "You alright, hon?"

"No," he managed to choke, "I-I-I'm not."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two people who aren't Bobby learn about the "miracle."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sammy you should know better than to trust william b. with important secrets. for shame

"And I dunno what I'm gonna do, 'cause I can't tell Bobby about this, an' I don't really wanna be, but at the same time I don't wanna get an abortion and-"

"Sammy. Sweetie. Deep breaths." Edith Prickley placed her hand on Sammy's knee and patted gently. "Slow down and let me get the story straight, alright?" Sammy nodded a little and rubbed his temples. Edith always knew what to do. She was basically a second mother to the entire staff of SCTV. At the same time, though, she was a notoriously poor influence. It was usually a 50/50 chance on whether you got motherly Edith or drunk-vodka-aunt Edith. Sammy was lucky that it seemed to be the former today. Edith cleared her throat and repeated the information she'd gotten.

"You're pregnant."

"Yep."

"It's Bobby's."

"Who else's?"

"But you don't want to tell him."

"No."

"Why not?"

"What if he... I don't know..." Sammy bit his lip. "What if he leaves?"

"Samuel." Edith sounded simultaneously offended and concerned. She gently tipped Sammy's chin up and smiled reassuringly at him. "Bobby is NOT going to leave you." Edith moved her hand to take Sammy's gently. "You're the only person on this godforsaken planet he cares about more than himself, sweetie, you're not going to lose him."

"How do you know that?!" Sammy was near tears again. As if having a panic attack in front of his GP and a nurse wasn't punishment enough. "I-I've seen it happen to other people!"

"Yeah, but they aren't you and their boyfriends aren't Bobby." Edith patted Sammy's shoulder and stood. "I'm gonna get you some water. Hang tight." She went into her kitchen and returned with a glass of water, which Sammy gratefully accepted. He took a drink and felt his nerves calm slightly. "Y'know how I know you're not gonna lose him?" Edith asked.

"How...?"

"Because I know Bobby as well as I know you, and I know he loves you to pieces." Edith produced a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed Sammy's tears away gently. "You know, you should hear how he talks about you. You're the greatest thing since sliced bread to him."

"... R-really?"

"Mhm. And when he looks at you, I see this little sparkle in his eye. It's not there for anyone else. He adores you." She pulled Sammy into a hug, patting his back gently. "And I bet you anything he'll be thrilled that you're having his baby."

"I dunno if I'm havin' it for real or not yet..."

"Well, either way, it's up to you in the end. It's not my body or his, it's yours, and you do what you want with it." Edith gave Sammy another quick squeeze and backed out of the hug to look him in the eyes. "How far along are you?"

"About 10 weeks."

"Ooh. You're gonna have to do some quick thinking, then."

"Why?"

"Most places won't give you an abortion after the first trimester unless they absolutely gotta."

"Oh." Sammy chewed his bottom lip and looked pensive for a second. "... What do I do, then?"

"It's between you and Bobby. More so you." Edith smiled warmly. "Don't worry, sweetie. Whatever happens, you'll figure it out. You're smarter than you give yourself credit for."

"I forgot I could get pregnant taking testosterone, though."

"And I forgot my ex-husband's birthday 30 times. We have our lapses."  
***  
Sammy tried his best to keep his composure over the next couple of days. During a break in filming for the Maudlin Show, he took William B. aside and informed him. He hadn't been as reassuring as Edith had; William B. was more thrilled that he was "going to be an uncle." Restraining himself from wrapping his hands around William's neck had been difficult.

"So have you told Bobby yet?"

"No..."

"It IS Bobby's, right?"

"William!"

"Sorry, sorry, just thought I'd ask!" William held up his hands defensively. "I mean-"

"I am NOT cheating on my fiance! And frankly I'm kinda pissed you'd even imply that this baby isn't his!"

"Wow, you're already hormonal."

"Another smart word outta your mouth an' I'm gonna slap you so hard your grandma feels it!"

William was quiet for a moment, then he asked, "So, um... are you having it?"

"... I..." Sammy paused and thought a second. The more he thought about it, the less horrendous having a kid sounded. Still not optimal, but not horrendous. "... Yeah. Yeah, I think I am."

"You THINK you are?"

"Listen, I'm still processin' it right now. Just... when Bobby inevitably crashes the show, don't tell 'im. Not a word."

"Cross my heart," William said with a smile. "Scout's honor."

"You were never a Boy Scout."

"You know what I meant."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William B. is the worst best friend on the planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EVERYBODY HAAAAAAAAATES WILLIAM. brief trigger warning for vomit in this chapter. poor sammy. :c (also: sammy has been on a maintenance dosage of t for a long time, but hasn't had any sort of surgery. he wears a binder [which might be a bit anachronistic but like hell i'm portraying a trans guy binding with ace bandages] and obv is still in possession of the reproductive system he was born with. t makes it HARD to get pregnant, but not impossible. sammy and bobby are just unlucky. oopsie daisy. :c)

"HOW ARE YA?!" Bobby's catchphrase echoed through the studio and the audience applauded wildly at his appearance. This always happened. His voice was like music to Sammy's ears and nails on a chalkboard at the same time. He cast William B. a nervous glance, hoping he wouldn't blurt out the secret he was let in on earlier. William did have a bad habit of letting things slip.

Bobby greeted William with a tight hug, then turned to Sammy and smiled warmly. They embraced, and Bobby stood on his tiptoes to kiss his partner. He smelled like cigarettes and that horrible overpowering cologne Sammy hated, and it made his stomach turn. Great. Couldn't even stand to smell the father of his child now. All the same, Sammy forced a smile, hoped it wasn't too obvious that he felt like he was dying, and returned to his seat as Bobby and William made themselves comfortable on the couch.

"What're you doin' here, you maniac?" Sammy asked, forcing himself to remain as jovial as possible even as Bobby lit a cigarette and intensified the smell of smoke. Fucking Christ. He silently apologized to his future child for the state their other parent was in before Bobby began speaking.

"I was across the hall tapin' a special, thought I'd pop in and spread a little sunshine, huh?" Bobby crowed, taking a drag off his cigarette. A cloud of smoke billowed from his lips momentarily. "I brought some outtakes from the special if you want to watch them, I think they're pretty hilarious."

"Ah, I suppose, if we have the time...?" Sammy glanced at the producer, who nodded and gave him a thumbs up. "Alright, let's go ahead and roll 'em."

"You don't want me to set 'em up?"

"Nah, with you, most things speak for themselves." Sammy wanted, so desperately, to say 'the smell of your cologne and cigarette smoke is making me want to puke my guts up and I would like to get this overwith as quickly as possible', but held it back. This was Bobby. He was like this because he was pregnant with Bobby's kid. He had to hold himself together.

The outtakes were usual Bittman material, until the last one. A small child sat perched on Bobby's knee, fiddling with one of his necklaces. "Kid, kid, hands off the goods, alright?" Bobby said, nudging the child's hand away from his jewelry. Sammy winced a little, glad the cameras weren't on him at the moment, and tried to keep himself from saying anything. The kid glowered at Bobby momentarily and said, "You're not my dad," before hopping off of his knee. Someone yelled cut, and Bobby launched into one of his infamous tirades.

"Seriously?! Where the hell did you find this kid?! The sketch is called 'Over My Dad Bobby,' he knows what he's supposed to be doing!"

"Mr. Bittman, in all fairness, the casting call was for four to six year olds. They're not very well known for their listening skills. And you probably shouldn't use that title for the final sketch. The actual copyright holders from your old sitcom might not like it."

"You don't tell me what the hell I do on my set with my actors! I'm the director here! And don't yell cut, I tell you when to cut!"

Sammy groaned softly and buried his head in his hands as the camera cut back to him, Bobby, and William, the latter two dying of laughter. "Sam, babe, what's the deal?" Bobby asked once he'd settled down. "You're not laughing."

"Ah... just not feelin' too great tonight, Bobby." Sammy looked up at Bobby and forced another smile as he reclined in his chair. "So, who was that kid anyway?"

"Hell do I know? His name was Tom somethin', he was some kid that won the auditions. Didn't know what he was doing. Mom was probably tryin' to live vicariously through her kid." Bobby took a drag off his cigarette. "Don't ever do that to your own kids, ladies and gents," Bobby added, addressing the camera directly in front of him.

"Heh, some advice you should take to heart with your own kids," William said with a chortle. Sammy felt every muscle in his body tense as he glared at William like he was trying to bore a hole through him. _No, no, no, shut up, shut up!_  
Bobby paused, eyebrows furrowed, and glanced toward Sammy's co-host. "... Pardon? I don't have kids."

"Well, you will soon, so..."

The audience let out an "oooohhh" noise, Sammy winced and hid his face in his hands as another wave of nausea crashed over him, and Bobby slowly turned to him. "... Sam?"

Sammy mumbled a quiet "goddammit, William" under his breath before forcing a smile. "I'm afraid that's all the time we got tonight ladies and gentlemen GOODNIGHT!" It all came out as almost a single word before he launched out of his chair and sprinted backstage, barely making it to a bathroom to crash to his knees in front of a toilet and cough up what little food he'd managed to swallow that day. Tears streaked down his cheeks as he heaved, whimpering quietly between retches.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Sammy barely managed to say "Kinda busy in here," before he felt the contents of his stomach creeping up his esophagus again and leaned over the toilet to hurl again. The door opened slowly, and shut quietly. A gentle hand pressed into his back and someone kneeled beside him.

"Sweetheart, are you okay...?" Bobby. Sammy coughed, spat into the toilet bowl once he was certain the latest wave was overwith, and sobbed quietly. He shook his head and sat down on the bathroom floor, leaning against the wall and crying softly. "Hey... hey, it's alright, come on..." Bobby tried to pull his fiance close, only to be harshly batted away. "Don't want me to touch you?" Sammy shook his head again. "... Is it alright if I stay with you?" A nod this time. Bobby reached over and flushed the toilet before he sat in front of Sammy, patiently waiting for him to settle down enough to speak.

Sammy eventually glanced up at Bobby. God, he looked so pathetic. Pale and sweaty, his hair an even bigger mess than usual, and tears in his eyes, he whimpered, "Please don't be mad. Please don't leave." At this point, he expected a joke or a funny expression, but no. Bobby just looked worried. He tentatively reached for him, then paused a second and pulled his handkerchief from his pocket first. Dabbing away tears and then drool and vomit from Sammy's face, Bobby tried his best to be gentle and reassuring. He wasn't always good at it, but he had to try at some point.

"Why would I leave...?" he asked softly, folding the handkerchief over. Bobby gently ran a hand through Sammy's tangled curls. "I'm not gonna leave." He gently untangled his hand from Sammy's hair and stood, offering to help him up. "I don't think we need to be having this conversation in a bathroom, though. Not the best place."

Sammy nodded weakly and rose on shaky legs, taking Bobby's hand and using him as a support on the way to his dressing room. Upon being intercepted by William B., who tried to apologize, Sammy just glared at him and smacked him on the back of his head. Fucking William.

"Alright," Bobby began as Sammy lowered himself to the couch in his dressing room, shutting and locking the door. "So... what happened?"

"You heard William." Sammy's voice was barely a hoarse whisper. He reached for a peppermint in the candy bowl on the table and popped it into his mouth. Had to get the taste out of his mouth somehow.

"... You're...?"

Sammy nodded a little.

"Shit." Bobby sank to the couch beside Sammy, who nodded again. "... When...?"

"When do you think?"

"Oh." Yeah. He'd been worried about this being a possibility. Bobby ran a hand through his hair. "... Are you gonna... keep it? Like, keep it keep it? Am I gonna have to swallow my pride and call my pops and ask him how to change a diaper?"

"Maybe?" Sammy winced a little at Bobby's tone. "I mean, i-if you don't want me to, I won't..."

Bobby softened immediately and sighed a little. "No, no, sweetheart, I didn't mean it like that. It's your choice in the end." He moved to pull Sammy close. Sammy scooted away slightly. "I can't get you double pregnant, sweetheart."

"No, no, I know that, I ain't stupid. It's just... y'smell like cigarettes an' that horrible cologne y'know I hate. An' I dont think the baby likes it."

"Oh." Bobby felt like he'd said that a lot in the last five minutes. Twice was a lot for him. "... Alright, um... h-how far along are you?"

"Ten weeks..."

"Jesus, and you just found out?!"

"I just thought the weird stuff I'd been feelin' was because of other stuff." Sammy shrugged a little. "Probably shoulda figured it out when I started wakin' up feelin' sick."

"I thought you couldn't get pregnant as long as you were getting testosterone shots."

"Yeah, neither did I. Turns out I just forgot that Dr. Estevez said I could." Sammy closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "I'm such an idiot."

"No, you're not. You forgot. I mean... I dunno, if I was on something that could make it hard for me to have a baby for years, I'd probably forget I still could too."

"That's the thing, though, like... I've been on T since the show came on the air. I should be infertile. You would think."

"Mmm. Maybe we're just unlucky."

"Yeah." A long pause. "... Can we go home? It's been a long day."

"Of course."

"And we get home, please take a shower. You smell like everything my stomach doesn't like."

Bobby smiled a little and nodded. "Sure thing, sweetheart."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a weird, weird day for Bobby Bittman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behold, the first chapter of nothing but doofy Bobby-is-a-dad feelings. Bless him, he's going to end up pretty stoked by the end of this! (Also introducing his small army of cats, who probably should have been sitting around being mad as hell that Sammy and Bobby were ~getting intimate~ in chapter one.)

Bobby lay back and sighed softly as Sammy lay beside him, running his fingers over his silk pajamas. What a night. It had started out completely normal, and now here he was with a heart and a half beating beside him. "... This has been a weird day."

"It's been a weird week for me, sugar," Sammy responded, nuzzling into Bobby's neck. His stomach didn't turn at the smell of his shampoo and deodorant, at least. "... You sure you're okay with me keeping it...?"

Bobby smiled and chuckled lightly. "I mean, it isn't my choice to make. You're the one that has to deal with it." He turned onto his side and kissed Sammy's forehead gently. "But I won't leave. Promise. What made you think I'd leave?" The concept of leaving Sammy, especially now, broke his heart. Hell, he'd gone and knocked him up, he couldn't leave now. Bobby Bittman was a lot of things- liar, cheat, generally unsavory person- but a deadbeat wasn't one of them.

Sammy shrugged a little and glanced down at his hand, fiddling with a button on Bobby's pajama shirt. "I dunno. I just... it's happened to a couple people I know, an' I guess... I know you don't like kids..."

"Sam, baby. I've always heard it's different when it's yours." Bobby covered Sammy's hand with his own. "And besides, who knows? It's an adventure. I'm kind of interested in seeing how we handle it."

Sammy smiled a little bit, reassured. "... I hope you're right." He sighed a little and curled in close to his partner. "I... guess we should try and get some sleep, huh?"

"Mm. We won't get much of it in a few months." Bobby wrapped an arm around Sammy and pulled him close. "Try and sleep, babe. I love you."

Sammy barely had to "try." He was out like a light within minutes, dozing peacefully. Maybe the reassurance that he wouldn't be abandoned was all he needed. Bobby, however, lay awake, unable to sleep with all the thinking he was doing. This was probably the weirdest day of his life. He'd never seen himself having kids; that was Skip's job. Skip liked kids. He was patient and calm and gentle and non-threatening. Bobby, on the other hand, had a temper and was self-absorbed and scared the daylights out of children and most animals. Hell, he was surprised he managed to keep four cats without managing to end up killing them somehow.

Duchess, his beloved white-furred blue-eyed cat with a tiny gray spot on her muzzle, nudged open the door, strode to the bed, and hopped up on it. Bobby smiled a little and stroked her gently, mumbling, "What did we get ourselves into?"

Duchess purred and leaned into her owner's hand, meowing politely before curling up at his side. The other three were probably off pouncing on fallen leaves in the backyard. Made sense. They weren't as... refined as Duchess was. She closed her eyes contentedly and purred happily. Bobby nudged her over slightly to turn onto his back, trying to get his head on straight. Maybe it would be less weird if he just admitted it out loud.

"... I'm gonna have a kid." Bobby mused aloud, absently scratching behind the cat's ears. "I'm gonna be a dad." The words felt foreign in his mouth, but he was going to have to get used to saying them. Duchess meowed and crawled onto Bobby's chest, laying down and tucking her paws beneath her. Her soft purring was soothing, and Bobby felt himself relax as he repeated it one more time. "I'm gonna be a dad."

It didn't sound so bad after a few times said out loud. Definitely still not optimal, but he figured humans had been having babies for ages and figured it out long enough for the species to survive to 1980. The concept of asking his parents for advice- or worse, Sammy's parents, who despite being exceptionally sweet were overbearing and smothering- definitely didn't appeal to him. Maybe he'd just ask Edith. She had a couple of kids, and they were teenagers now, so she had some concept of what she was doing. Edith was basically everyone at SCTV's second mother, anyway.

Bobby moved his cat off of him, placing her on the floor despite her meows of protest, and turned onto his side again. He took in the sight of Sammy for a moment. He didn't look different, but then again, it had only been about two and a half months. Bobby's only experience with a pregnant person had been when his mother was expecting Skip, and he'd been two months premature. He hoped that didn't happen to Sammy; he had foggy but present memories of his father pacing worriedly and being at the hospital to stare at a wrinkly, diminutive, red infant in an incubator, and of his mother crying daily. He didn't want his better half to go through that.

Bobby placed a hand on Sammy's stomach gently, half-wondering if he could feel the beginnings of a bump. The answer was no, but something about his body did feel different. Maybe, just maybe, Bobby was just crazy, or maybe it was knowing that something he'd had a hand in making was growing there.

"Your hand's up too high." Sammy's voice was a quiet whisper, but it still made Bobby jump a little. Too high? "Just crazy" must have been the answer, then.

"I thought you were asleep," he whispered back, withdrawing his hand. "Sorry if I woke you up..."

"It's alright." Sammy smiled a little, and though he was clearly exhausted, he gently grabbed Bobby's hand and placed it back on him, lower than it had originally been, almost at his crotch. Awkward. "You were close. I'm guessin' this is what you were goin' for?"

"Uh. Are you... you tryin' to-"

"No. That's actually where it is right now."

"... But... when it's, like, fully baked, people are huge."

"Yeah, it's an entire baby by the time it's done, Bobby, it gets big. Not too big, I hope." Sammy laughed softly and closed his eyes again. "I'm goin' back to sleep. Take your time."

Bobby was silent, but kept his hand where it was. He couldn't feel anything. He didn't know what he was expecting. The wonder was kind of taken out of the moment when he was told he was aiming a little high for some reason. He'd always thought babies just... grew there.

Maybe next time Sammy went to the doctor, it would be a good idea for him to go. Get an anatomy lesson while he was there.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The offspring has a confirmed heartbeat, and Bobby gets sappy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bobby has no idea how anatomy works. Probably not even his own. He didn't do very well in school. :P He's getting pretty attached to his future offspring, too. I love writing sappy emotional Bobby.

Waiting rooms always gave Bobby the jitters. The stark walls and tasteless, clinical decor were unnerving on a good day, much less today. Sammy, beside him, flipped almost casually through an old copy of National Geographic, like he wasn't at all bothered by the atmosphere. Then again, he wouldn't be, he'd been seeing a doctor on the regular for years. Bobby, on the other hand, avoided medical treatment like the plague, unless he was actively dying of the plague.

"You're not nervous at all?" Bobby asked quietly. Sammy shrugged a little, nonchalantly. "How are you not scared shitless? You've never even been here before."

"No, but Dr. Estevez said this girl was nice an' took care of her patients no matter what. I don't mind havin' to do a little drivin' to make sure everything's kosher." Sammy licked a finger and flipped the page, scanning an article about some nation locked behind the Iron Curtain. "Could be worse. At least it's just Elmdale."

"... Yeah, I guess." Bobby crossed his legs, trying to get comfortable. He didn't have any time to, as a young woman in bright blue scrubs glanced up from her clipboard and called "Maudlin?" Sammy glanced up, stood with a stretch, and turned to Bobby.

"You wanna come?"

"... I'm allowed to?"

The nurse smiled and nodded. "Yep. C'mon back, gentlemen." That was different. When Bobby was a kid, whoever did the sperm donating usually stayed away from the whole process. All the same, though, it wouldn't hurt to see what was going on.

Sitting alone with Sammy in the tiny exam room once his weight, height, and other vitals were confirmed, Bobby was quiet. He had a lot on his mind. "So... what are we supposed to see? How long has it been again, 12 weeks?"

Sammy nodded. "Well... we should hear a heartbeat. If there is one." A heavy silence hung between them after the second sentence. Bobby rose an eyebrow, wanting to ask something, but not saying it. He'd kind of warmed up to the concept of having a baby.

"If there is one?" he finally asked.

"I mean... it could be... dead on arrival, y'know?" Sammy twiddled his thumbs. "I mean, I think I would feel somethin' wrong if anything was, but... you're talkin' to someone who brushed off symptoms of bein' pregnant for two and a half months." Sammy half-chuckled, a little nervously, before his face fell. "... I'm kinda scared."

"... They'll find a heartbeat." Bobby gripped Sammy's hand gently. "And if they don't, I guess we'll get over it eventually. Right? I mean... it's not that uncommon..."

"You're not helpin', sugar." The exam room door opened, and a woman that almost looked young enough to actually be their daughter walked in.

"Sammy Maudlin? I'm Dr. North. Nice to meet you." Offering Sammy a handshake, she gestured to the exam table. "I'm gonna need you to lay back on that, alright, and pull your shirt up for me. Make sure you're comfortable, because we could be here a little while."

Bobby watched, fascinated, as the doctor gently prodded at Sammy's abdomen. "When do you think you conceived?"

"Um. Probably the middle of July?" Sammy began, only to be cut off by a soft giggle. "C-careful. Ticklish."

"Sorry!" Dr. North smiled apologetically. "I'll try not to tickle you anymore. Have you had any symptoms?"

"Morning sickness. Lotta smells that make me nauseous. My chest hurts. I'm tired." Sammy laughed a little, genuinely this time. "I'm in for a ride, ain't I?"

"Well, I can tell you morning sickness usually goes away or at least isn't as bad by the second trimester, so you shouldn't have to worry about that much longer. Ditto the tenderness in your chest." Dr. North took her hands off Sammy's abdomen and turned to the ginormous machine at her side.

"... So what does that actually do?"

"Are you Dad number two?" Dr. North asked Bobby, who responded with a nod. "Congrats, then! This is our ultrasound machine. This-" she held up something that looked a lot like the huge blocky portable phones that some people had, "is our transducer. This puts out sound waves so we can get a picture of your little mini-me in there."

"Does it hurt?"

"Nah," Sammy responded for the doctor this time. "I got this done at Dr. Estevez's office, too. Can't hear it and don't feel it. It's just sound." He jumped a little as the acoustic gel made contact with his skin. "Jesus, that's cold."

"Sorry, hon... I know it's uncomfortable." Dr. North spread some of the gel on the transducer, then placed it to Sammy's stomach and glanced up at the screen. "Alright, let's take a look..."

Bobby gripped Sammy's hand gently, eyes fixed on the screen. The picture was blurry and in stark black and white, and it was hard to make out much of anything. "You can actually see something in all that? It looks like TV static."

"Mmm, you just have to know what to look for." Dr. North moved the transducer slightly. "Ah-ha! We have a bingo!" She turned to Sammy and Bobby and barely held back a chuckle at the sight of Bobby looking absolutely terrified. "Hang on a second, let me see if I can get the audio for you."

"It wasn't on?!"

"No, no, it was on, I just want to see if I can't let you hear... there we go." A few turned knobs and Bobby fell quiet. A low, rhythmic whooshing thump came from the machine. "That's the heartbeat. Congratulations, fellas."

Sammy let out a sigh of relief and smiled, turning to Bobby and about to say something, but stopping himself when he caught sight of his fiance. Bobby was gripping his hand, an ear-to-ear smile on his face, and teary-eyed. "Are you crying?"

"No, you are, shut up." Bobby wiped his eyes and squeezed Sammy's hand. "... God, this is really happening."

"Sure is, sharpshooter." Dr. North used her free hand to point to the screen. "Here's the head," she said. "They're about 2 inches long. We can't tell the sex yet, but everything looks to be in working order."

"Not sure I want to know anyway. I kinda wanna be surprised," Sammy responded. Dr. North nodded and removed the transducer from Sammy's stomach, wiping it off and placing it back where it belonged. She handed Sammy a towel to wipe the acoustic goo off his stomach, and as he sat up and pulled his shirt back down, she removed her gloves and sat in a chair on the other side of the table.

"Any questions?"

"So many."

"I figured. I didn't get your name, Mister...?"

"Bittman. Bobby Bittman." Holding back a comment about how she hadn't heard of him before, Bobby paused to think a second before settling on the first thing that came to mind. "When can we... tell?"

"You mean when will he show?"

"Yeah, that."

"Well... depends on how you define that." Dr. North turned to Sammy. "You probably noticed you're more comfortable in loose clothing already. For anything immediately obvious, though, I would give it another month at the least. Ditto for actually feeling any movement. I would recommend buying some looser-fitting clothing soon, especially if you're not ready to be visibly pregnant until you don't have a choice."

She stood up. "I can make you some wallet-sized prints of the ultrasound, if you'd like?"

"Please!" Bobby's response, surprisingly enthusiastic, was immediate.

"Alright. I'll be right back."

She exited, shutting the door behind her. Bobby let out a soft laugh, finally letting the tears come. "God. It's real. This is all real."

"Did you think it was a dream before now?"

"No, I... I dunno, it didn't FEEL real yet, and... seeing it put on screen like that, I mean... fuck." Bobby wiped his eyes again. He took a deep breath and smiled up at Sammy warmly. "This is the happiest I've felt in a long time."

"... Me too." Sammy returned the smile as he gently got up from the table. Dr. North re-entered the room, handing them two small prints of the ultrasound.

"You can go ahead and check out now, boys. Karen will set up your next appointment." She gave Sammy a pat on the shoulder and Bobby a handshake. "Congrats. Go enjoy your miracle."

Standing at the front desk, Bobby stared at the ultrasound, a tiny smile on his face. Sure, it was blurry and didn't look like much, but he could pick out the little lime-sized lump the doctor had pointed out. It didn't look much like a baby- or, really, at all like a baby, which he presumed it wasn't quite yet- but it was something. A concrete reminder of how his life was going to change.

He felt a tug in his chest, and couldn't help but think that the paternal instinct was kicking in awfully quick.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lamaze classes are stupid, but progress can be felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bobby is gonna be the worstbest dad. World's Okayest Dad. (Slight trigger warning for gross childbirth stuff being mentioned in this chapter, though it's not long and nothing super graphic.)

"Have you decided what you're going to do with your placenta?"

"... What?" Sammy's mildly queasy response sent laughter through the gaggle of women nearby. God, he felt out of place. Lamaze was stupid. He didn't know why he'd agreed to take these courses. At least Bobby had a few of their husbands, boyfriends, whatevers to hang out with and talk about whatever it was they talked about.

"You heard me! Your placenta!" A cheery blonde chirped. Her name was Piper, Sammy thought. She was... upbeat. Unpleasantly so, sometimes. "What are you going to do with it when your baby gets here? I plan to eat mine."

"What?!" Sammy could just feel himself going pale. Eating it? What the hell?

"Oh, my friend Angeline did it, and she said it made her feel so much closer to her baby!"

"Plus it's a great source of protein," another woman added, to a series of sage nods and noises of agreement. Sammy just made a face and placed a hand on his protruding stomach. He'd finally started to show, and good God if it didn't make him into an absolute magnet for everyone's hands. Even through loose clothing, when he himself could barely tell he was pregnant, he was constantly being touched by people who had no business touching him. Gerry Todd, Johnny LaRue, Dusty, Lola, even Caballero. He'd expected Guy to flip his shit when he found out about the impending "miracle," but no, he'd just quirked an eyebrow and asked when he was due. Maybe Caballero wasn't entirely heartless.

"Well, if you're not going to tell us what you're doing with your-"

"I think he gets it, Linda."

"Okay, okay... at least tell us what you're naming the baby!"

Names hadn't really been something they'd thought about. Hell, Sammy was only partway through the second trimester. He figured they had to think about it sooner or later, though. "We... haven't really thought about names yet."

"What? How have you not thought about names yet?" Piper sounded absolutely scandalized. "My husband and I knew what we wanted to name ours immediately."

"Did you?"

"If it's a boy we're naming it Brandon, and if it's a girl we're naming it Lorelei."

"Oh. Those are nice."

"But we want the baby to be unique, too..." Oh, god, here it came. "So we decided to spell it B-R-A-N-N-D-Y-N or L-A-U-R-A-L-E-I-G-H." Sammy barely held back the need to cringe at those spellings. Poor little Branndyn or Lauraleigh was gonna have a tough school career.

"... Oh." He forced a smile. "That's... interesting." Years of television work had made him spectacular at faking socially appropriate responses. He let Piper go on and on about how 'every child was unique' and 'deserved to be set apart from the rest' as he scanned the crowd of significant others for Bobby. Not like he was hard to pick out; between his short stature and salmon-pink shirt he stood out like a sore thumb amongst the others.

"Bobby, hon, could you come here a minute?" he asked as politely as possible, even though the women were entranced with Piper's speech and the various other halves seemed to be more concerned with a newspaper detailing the previous day's football game, Bobby excluded.

Bobby walked over to his fiance's side. "Somethin' the matter, babe?"

"Oh, that's your husband?"

"Fiance," Bobby clarified.

"Oh, you aren't married..." one of the older women murmured, sounding ashamed on their behalf. "Hm. I guess it makes things easier if you break up."

"... Excuse me?" Bobby was already clearly being tried; he had that forced smile and he was fiddling with one of his rings. "I don't think that's gonna happen, sweetheart, but thanks for your input."

"Oh, you never know... babies can try marriages, let alone just relationships."

"Donna. That's enough." Piper had apparently stopped her rambling long enough to intervene before Bobby throttled a pregnant woman. Nice of her. "So, um... Bobby? We were just asking Sammy what you were gonna name your baby!"

"Oh. Um... we hadn't thought about it."

"How?!"

Bobby shrugged. "I mean... we just thought we had time to think about it."

"What have you been calling him, then?"

"... It. The baby. Normal stuff." Bobby leaned against the wall. "We don't know what we're having."

"Then pick one for each!"

"... I dunno." Sammy looked down at his shoes- what he could see of them, anyway- and said, "I was thinkin' we'd just pick somethin' that works either way."

"Oh! Like Gene or Jean, right?"

"Kinda, but... not exactly. Just... somethin' that works so no matter what we have their name fits."

"Dewdrop."

"... 'Scuse me?"

"... How about it?" Bobby barely even looked up from the ring he was playing with. Sammy paused a minute and pondered. Dewdrop. Dewdrop Bittman. Not bad. He gently placed a hand on his stomach.

"... I like it." The couple exchanged glances and a smile. "Dewdrop it is, then."

"Ooh, and no one in her class is gonna have the same name!"

"Her? No, no, we don't know what it is yet. I'd rather not assume."

Piper opened her mouth to speak again, but the instructor cut her off. "Can I have your attention? In lieu of breathing exercises today, we'll be watching a brief video."

Thank god. If Sammy had to visualize one more sunny meadow with Bobby massaging his shoulders awkwardly, he was going to scream. He settled down onto a spot on the floor with Bobby, whose little group seemed to have broken up and joined their wives and girlfriends. "I hope this ain't just another guided meditation thing," he mumbled, low enough that only Bobby could hear him.

"I hear you. One more sunny meadow and I'm gonna snap someone's neck."

"Oh, my god, you too?" Sammy barely held back laughter. "I was just thinkin' the same thing. Without the neck snappin' part."

The instructor dimmed the lights, and the TV screen flickered to life. "The miracle of birth." Oh, no, he'd been dreading this. He thought this was a myth.

The video showed everything. In graphic detail. Sammy felt himself snap his knees shut without thinking at the graphic shot of a baby crowning, wincing a little. That... didn't look pleasant. He almost said something to Bobby to lighten the mood, but when he turned to look at him, he was gone.

Incredible. Bobby had bailed. Kind of wimpy, but he'd never had been able to stomach blood and gore easily. Sammy just turned back to the screen in time to be treated with the words "Don't worry if you have a bowel movement while pushing. It's normal, and the doctor has seen it before." Fun. He cast a quick glance around the room; some of the first-timers looked nauseated, every single spouse looked absolutely horrified, but the girls on their second or third child weren't bothered in the slightest. They'd done it before. Sammy idly wondered if it would be that gross when his "blessed event" finally occurred. God, he hoped not.

He winced as the movie added, "Once your baby's out, you'll deliver the placenta shortly thereafter." Oh, Jesus, was that what a placenta was?! It looked like a chunk of undercooked liver, with veins. Ew. That was where Sammy drew the line. He stood and left the room, finding Bobby in the hall smoking and looking pale. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

"... Is it gonna be that bad?"

"You left before the real fun stuff started." Sammy chose not to elaborate. "Put that out and let's just... head home. I don't think this is gonna work for us."

In the car on the way home, they were mostly quiet. "... Dewdrop, huh?"

"I think it works." Bobby smiled a little bit as he pulled the car into their driveway. "Doesn't matter what junk the kid pops out with. It fits."

Sammy nodded his agreement. "It's cute. You have good ideas sometimes, y'know?"

"I know, I'm the greatest." Bobby removed his sunglasses and the keys from the ignition. "C'mon, I'll unlock the door."

Overdramatic belly-flopping onto the couch was ancient history at this point. Sammy instead opted to sink into said couch overdramatically, with a heavy sigh. Oscar, the tailless black-and-white cat Bobby had "taken in" when he was a starving street kitten, hopped into Sammy's lap.

Bobby took a seat beside Sammy, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "... You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just... tired. I don't know."

"You are kind of doing a lot these days." Bobby smirked and laughed softly as Sammy elbowed him in the ribs. "What? I'd say growing a person in you is doing a lot."

"Shut up." His tone wasn't angry. More of a 'hang on a minute' tone. Sammy brushed Oscar off of his lap and felt his stomach. "... Oh my god."

"What?" Bobby was immediately worried. "I-is it time? Can it be time already? You're like, barely five and a half months-"

"No, Bobby, sugar, it's not time."

"Then what are you-"

"Here." Sammy took one of Bobby's (wildly gesticulating) hands and placed it where his own had been. "Wait a second." A beat passed between them, then Bobby felt a gentle tap against his palm. "You feel that?"

"... Is that the baby?"

"It is. This is the first time I've felt 'em move."

Bobby lowered his head to Sammy's belly and pressed his ear against it. "You think they can hear us?"

"Maybe? I don't remember when Dr. North said they could hear."

"Think we should introduce ourselves?"

"I think there'll be plenty of time for that once they're here in person, sugar."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby still doesn't know how anatomy works.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry this is just a doofy filler chapter i couldnt get out of my head. bobby is an idiot. (the Blessed Event is upcoming!!! i know this has been posted like crazy fast but ive been meaning to write this for a year so i guess its just coming easy? idk enjoy bobby being dumb as hell)

The clang of the alarm was the most dreaded noise in Sammy's life. Smacking the damned thing off of his end table with a groan, he managed to, however slowly and clumsily, turn onto his right side. He felt like a beached whale that had been dead for a few days and was starting to bloat. He missed being able to have a glass of wine at the end of a long day or a hit off a cigarette or even a cup of coffee. God, coffee sounded wonderful.

Bobby chose that moment to walk in with a cup of the fucking stuff. Speak of the devil. "Mornin', sweetheart." He set his mug on his nightstand and kissed Sammy's forehead. "How you feelin'?"

"Ugh. Like twice-warmed garbage." Sammy winced as the baby kicked particularly hard. "And your little soccer player ain't helpin' much."

"If they're anything like you, Sam, they gotta stretch their legs a little. I can imagine it's already cramped in there." Bobby ruffled Sammy's hair and lay beside him. "Sorry you feel like crap, though."

"I'm startin' to get used to it. I'm gonna be fat and gross for a few more months, anyway."

"I'm gonna stop you right there." Bobby pressed a finger to Sammy's lips. "You're not fat and gross."

"Bobby."

"Shush, I'm making a point." Bobby caressed his fiance's cheek gently. "You're not fat or anything. You're pregnant. And I think you look amazing." He pressed a kiss to Sammy's lips and trailed a hand down his body, coming to rest on the protruding bump. "You're glowing, you know?"

"Am I?" Sammy's voice was hushed, his eyes sparkling. "I feel like death."

"You are. Babe, you look gorgeous." Bobby's reverent tone was absolutely amazing. He gave his fiance another kiss. "You want me to prove it?"

"Mmm. How d'you plan on that?"

Bobby didn't answer. He instead chose to nibble gently at Sammy's neck, letting his hands wander over him. Sammy trembled in response and purred. "You sure...?"

"Mmhm..."

"You don't think it's weird...?"

"Mm-mm." Bobby kissed his way down to Sammy's collarbone. "I love you. I want you to believe me."

"I believe you..." Sammy wound his hands into Bobby's hair and sighed happily as a hand slid up his shirt. "God, I believe you." Bobby lifted Sammy's shirt up and over his head, hands still wandering over his body.

"I love you. God, I love you so much, sweetheart, you kill me with how gorgeous you are..." Bobby's voice was already husky. God, it was that same stupid growly voice that got them into this situation in the first place, and Sammy was still powerless to it. He practically felt himself turn to putty in Bobby's hands.

His mouth traveled lower, across Sammy's collarbones and over his chest. Sammy gasped softly as Bobby repeated one of the actions that had gotten them to this point in the first place; gently using his tongue and lips to tease Sammy's almost painfully sensitive nipples. "Aah, Bobby... b-be careful..."

"Hm?" Bobby looked up at Sammy quizzically, pulling back. "You alright?"

"Y-yeah, just... those're sensitive."

"Gotcha." Bobby winked and went back to work, this time choosing to suck, causing Sammy to shudder and arch his back in response. Everything seemed to be going well, and Sammy was starting to look forward to enjoying something a bit more intimate than a quick oral sex session at most, when Bobby suddenly halted his ministrations and sat up, coughing and wiping his lips before darting into the bathroom.

Confused, Sammy sat up and brought a hand to where Bobby's mouth had been. Pulling it back to inspect it, he barely held back laughter, both from amusement and embarrassment. A yellowish fluid tinged his fingertip. He hadn't thought he'd already be producing milk (well, not milk, but he couldn't remember what the doctor had actually called it).

He stood and pulled his shirt back on, walking to the bathroom to apologize. He barely held back giggles at the sight of Bobby furiously scrubbing at his tongue with a toothbrush. "Um... sorry about that."

"'Ou 'oud 'ave ol' meh!" Bobby didn't take the toothbrush out of his mouth, but Sammy managed to decipher what he was saying.

"Sugar, if I knew that was gonna happen, I _would_ tell you." Sammy bit his lip to hold back laughter as Bobby spat the toothpaste out, rinsed his mouth, and went in for another round of intensive scrubbing. "I didn't think I'd already have stuff in there."

"'At wa'nt 'en 'il'!"

"It ain't milk. I don't remember what the doctor called it." Sammy finally let a soft, snorted chuckle escape him as Bobby finished a second round of tongue-scrubbing. "This is all real sexy, sugar, but I'm sure the mood is good an' dead for you now."

"No shit?" Bobby deadpanned, finishing rinsing his mouth for a second time. "Shit, that was nasty and I didn't even get much. That's what babies have to eat?"

"Unless y'want me to formula feed, yep. Dr. North said it'd be better if I chestfed since I still can."

"Ugh. Poor kid." Bobby replaced his toothbrush in its proper spot and turned off the faucet.

"To be fair, suckin' on 'em while I'm pregnant probably wasn't your smartest idea ever."

"I didn't know! How was I supposed to know that's how it happened?"

Amazing. Sammy stared at Bobby for a minute, processing what he'd just said, then responded with, "How'd you think the baby got the milk?"

"I don't know, I thought it was just kinda like... an instinct thing? Like, if the kid's mouth is on the nipple, it just gives it milk?"

"... Not even close." Sammy rubbed his temples. "Y'know, I appreciate how supportive y'are and all, but you might be the stupidest father to be in history."

"I resent that." Bobby pouted jokingly. "I'm doin' my best, babe."

"I know you are." Sammy kissed Bobby's forehead once he was near enough for him to do so. "You're pretty great even if you ain't too smart."

"Sam."

"I'm just playin' with you, sugar."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bobby has a really stupid idea, but who is Sammy to say no?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bobby continues to be World's Okayest Dad. I finished this up last night, so I'm gonna go ahead and post the rest of the chapters. What a ride.

"I can't believe you're convincing me to do this."

"What? I want to keep an eye on you. Any day now, right?"

"Which is why I think this is a real dumb idea." Sammy shut the lid of the suitcase, locking it tight. "Just 'cause Skip can't draw a crowd on his own..."

"Oh, come on, babe, it's only a couple weeks. Didn't Dr. North say you'd probably be late?"

"'Cause I've never had a kid before, but there ain't a guarantee."

"What's the worst that can happen?"

"I can have the baby an' we're totally unprepared an' a million miles from the nearest hospital."

Bobby was quiet a moment. True, he thought, that could happen, but... "What are the odds?"

"It's a bunch of lil' towns in the middle-a nowhere. You tell me." Sammy would have said more, but being almost full-term took up most of his energy. Dewdrop was too snug to be doing somersaults anymore, but he could still feel them squirm every now and then. Dr. North had said this whole touring idea was a really stupid one. She didn't put it like that, but the essence of what she said was "this is stupid and you may or may not be stupid for agreeing to it," according to Sammy.

Bobby decided trying to be reassuring was the path to go down. "Well... you're bringing William B., right? He knows what he's doing. He has, like, 5 brothers and sisters."

"He knows about carryin' babies, not deliverin' 'em."

"Oh, come on, how hard can it be?"

"Bobby. The kid weighs 8 and a half pounds. You've seen where it's comin' out. Tell me again how it ain't gonna be hard."

"Sweetheart, you'll do fine. Humans have been doing this for like a million years."

"An' people used to die in childbirth all the time. They still do."

"You won't be one of them." Bobby kissed Sammy's cheek gently. "Would it make you feel better if I told you I had a bag set aside for stuff we'd need at the hospital?"

"A little, I guess. What's in there?"

"Ahhh..." Bobby thought a second. "Some clothes, shoes, cash... couple of books..."

"... Seriously?"

"I don't have a goddamn clue what I'm doing, Sam."

"No kiddin'." Sammy went to the closet and started digging through it. "That ain't gonna work. Unpack it."

"... Why?"

"Dr. North gave me a list of stuff I might want. That was the time Edith drove me, before you ask where you were." Sammy pulled a robe out of the closet, and after some doing, managed to get ahold of a pair of slippers on the floor. "Dr. North said walkin' can help when you're really gettin' into the nitty-gritty... you're gonna have your wallet, I'm guessin'?"

"Um, yeah...?"

"Good. You got the insurance card an' your own cash. ... I told you to unpack the bag."

Bobby unceremoniously dumped the contents of the oversized duffel bag onto their bed. "Unpacked."

"... Right." Sammy folded the robe and tucked it into the bag with the slippers.

The list wasn't as long as Bobby had expected. Toiletries, a camera (just in case he could stop being a panicky soon-to-be dad long enough to document things), clothes for themselves and the baby, some snacks (labor, apparently, burned a shit ton of calories).

Sammy took another glance over the list. "... I think that's everything. It was good of you to try an' be on top of things, sugar, but-" he stopped when he noticed Bobby placing one more thing into the bag. "... What're you doing?"

"... Nothing."

"You're doin' somethin'. What is that?"

Bobby laughed nervously and removed a stuffed elephant from the bag. "We need Ellie Pants, don't we?"

"No, Bobby, we don't need Ellie Pants." Ellie Pants might be the only thing, living or otherwise, Bobby cared about more than Sammy and himself. He'd never admit it to anyone except Sammy, but she went on tour with him whenever he was going alone. Bobby never did like sleeping alone.

"... Okay, I need Ellie Pants. Better?"

"Why do you need-"

"Sammy, I'm gonna be busy supporting YOU. Who's gonna support ME?!" Bobby gripped Ellie and pulled her to his chest. "... Please?"

A heavy sigh. "Fine. But I'm gonna make fun of you at least once."

"I'm used to that." Bobby tucked the stuffed animal back into the bag. "... This is really gonna happen soon, isn't it?"

"Mmm. You excited?"

"Terrified."

"Me too." They exchanged a smile before Bobby took his suitcase in one hand and the hospital bag on his shoulder.

"Better get movin'. Skip's gonna be here in 10 minutes."


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> William B. should have been a midwife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> William B. knows all of this because he was the only person present at the birth of his youngest sister. He was like 13 and delivered her. Some things you can't unsee or forget. :P

Where the hell were they? Somewhere in the south was all Sammy really knew. He'd spent most of his time on this "tour" napping and complaining. He'd been doing a lot of both lately, but he supposed being mere days away from his due date did that. Even in early April, the heat and humidity were oppressive, and he elected to spend as much of his time as possible inside an air-conditioned building with at least marginally comfortable furniture. Not much was comfortable anymore, but it was worth a shot.

"Rest stop in 10 miles. Anyone have to go?" Skip called from the driver's seat, taking a glance in the rear view mirror at Sammy. "Sam? You good?"

Half-asleep, Sammy only kind of registered what Skip was saying. "Huh...? Oh, um, no, pull over... y'know how it is. 8 pounds of Bittman kid sittin' on my bladder." He tried to laugh. Laughter was the best medicine, right?

The rest stop seemed to be fairly deserted except for some teenagers loitering near the soda machines. Perfectly fine by Sammy, whose former rush to the men's room was now more of an awkward waddle. God, it would be a blessing to get this kid out soon. Hopefully it'd wait until they were back in Melonville.

He barely noticed anything was off until he'd been on the toilet for 4 minutes. Ok, this wasn't normal. Evidently, the others had noticed his prolonged absence, as there was a rap on his stall door followed by "Everything alright in there, Sam?" from William B.

"Um... I'm actually not sure."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you THINK I mean?"

A pause. "Oh. Um... I hear what I think you mean."

"Bingo."

"Jeez, you had to go that bad? How long were you holdin' it?"

"I don't think it's pee anymore, William."

"Then what-" William stopped in his tracks as a realization came over him. "... Oh. Oh, jeez."

"Uh, yeah."

"Okay. Uh... I'll..."

"Yeah, tell Bobby so he can panic all day... I think it's over. There a pay phone out there?"

"Yeah."

"Alright. I need to make a call back home."

***

"Okay, um, don't panic, but-"

"Is he alright?" Skip asked, sipping a Coke and leaning against the driver's side door. "I mean, that's a long time for anyone to be on the can."

"His water broke."

"WHAT?!" That certainly got Bobby's attention. "I- what?! Sh-should we go to the hospital?!"

"No. He's not really in labor yet but he's gonna be soon." William B. fed a few coins into the vending machine and cracked open the can of Sprite that tumbled out. "We don't really have to worry until they're, like, constant."

"Which is...?"

"Five minutes between each contraction."

"... It's kind of crazy that you know all of this." Skip finished his drink and tossed the can into a nearby garbage bin. "So... don't freak out, right?"

"Right. That's the last thing he wants."

As if on cue, Sammy returned from the pay phone, opening the door to the car. "... What?" he asked, when he noticed Bobby and Skip giving him some pretty worried looks. "No, it's not time yet. I'll know."

"You sure...?"

"Can we just drive?"

***

Tupelo, Mississippi. Or at least some crappy town somewhere in the vague vicinity of Tupelo. That was where they were. No wonder it was so oppressively, painfully hot. Being in labor didn't help, but god, it was awful. The comedy club was small and lacked any sort of effective air conditioning system.

Panting softly on a couch in a dingy backstage area that smelled of mildew, Sammy winced and whimpered his way through strengthening contractions. William B., ever his sidekick, fanned him with a flyer he'd found laying around nearby.

"Doin' alright, bud?"

"I'm gonna fucking kill him."

"Probably shouldn't do that, but I get it." William B. continued waving the piece of paper near Sammy's face. "My mom said that to my dad every time." He paused to think, stopping the flow of cool air over a desperately overheated Sammy. "Though, my mom did have 3 10-pounders..."

"William! Air! Please!"

"Oh, jeez, right, sorry!" William B. quickly went back to giving Sammy the closest thing to a breeze he could muster. He glanced up at a nearby clock as Sammy gasped softly and curled in on himself briefly with pain. "8:03..."

"F-fuck are you doing?"

"Timing you."

"Jesus, it ain't a race!"

"Your contractions. They're getting closer together. Much closer and it'll be time to get you to a hospital." William B. switched the impromptu fan to his left hand and took Sammy's in his right. "You're doing good."

"Sh-shoulda been a midwife. You're good at this." Sammy forced a smile through the pain. "Goddammit... if I ever let him touch me again, shoot me."

"Just hang in there." William B. gave Sammy's hand a quick squeeze. "You excited?"

"I'm more ready for this to be over than I am to actually have a baby."

"I bet."

"H-how long has it been again?"

"Since your water broke? About 12 hours. You're doing fine." He looked up at the clock again as Sammy white-knuckled his hand and let out a soft yelp. "... 8:09. That's close enough." He stood up and gave Sammy's hand a reassuring squeeze. "I gotta leave you alone for a second and get Bobby, okay? Just a moment."

William B. vanished, and Sammy gripped the couch cushions as the wave of pain faded slowly.

***

"Bobby. Hang on a second," William B. walked onto the stage, trying to stay as calm as possible.

"Hold on a second, folks."

Bobby covered the microphone and turned to William. "What? I'm in the middle of an act here."

"Yeah, I see that. It's go time."

"... Pardon?"

"It's Sammy. His contractions are six minutes apart. It's nighttime, there's a storm rolling in, and we're about an hour away from the nearest hospital. If you want your kid born in a hospital, we need to go. Now."

Whether from disbelief or just being in the moment, William wasn't sure, but Bobby kind of chuckled, then said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I've just been informed my fiance's having a baby-" the audience cheered, and William caught sight of a clearly agonized Sammy leaning against the wall to the side of the stage- "and I gotta take him to a hospital. Babe, how do you expect me to pay for all those diapers if I don't finish a show now and then?"

William B. swore he heard Sammy from the sidelines, over the crowd's laughter. "GodDAMMIT, Bobby!" Sammy grabbed something- a huge, Vaudeville-style cane, which seemed to have no place in a rundown little comedy club to William- stormed onto the stage as well as he could, placed the hook around Bobby's waist, and actually pulled him off the stage.

"Show's over, go home," William said into the microphone quickly, before darting off stage with Sammy and Bobby. "Where's Skip?"

"Uh. T-try the dressing room," Bobby said, trying to back away from the violent chewing out he was getting from Sammy. "Babe, babe, we're going, William's gonna get Skip-"

"Don't you EVER crack a joke when someone tells you there's an emergency again! What would y'all have done if I was havin' a heart attack?! Huh?!"

"You're not, though!"

"No, I'm HAVING A GODDAMN BABY!" Sammy snapped, his grip on the cane tightening and his head dropping to his chest as another contraction wracked his body, trembling a bit. William and Skip returned, and Sammy gave neither of them a chance to speak. "GET ME TO A HOSPITAL!"


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the Blessed Event.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LET'S TIME TO PARTY. William B. really should have been a midwife or a OBGYN or something because he's A+. Good best bud William B. Williams.

"Just hang in there, Sam, I'm trying not to kill us all!" Skip turned the windshield wipers up to the maximum setting as he peered through the windshield at the pounding rain. In the backseat, Bobby sat with Sammy's head in his lap, wincing every now and then as his hand was gripped so tight he swore it was going to break. "Jesus, this rain moved in fast..." Skip mumbled, as William B. studied the map that had been in the glove compartment.

Bobby ran his free hand through Sammy's hair, trying his best to stay helpful. "It's alright, sweetheart, it's alright, I'm here, I got you, we're gonna get you to a hospital, just-"

"SHUT UP!" Sammy snarled, crying out as another contraction ripped through him. "Shut up, shut up, shut u-huuup!" A sob tore through his final word. He whimpered and cried softly, turning and burying his face in Bobby's stomach. "Oh, god, make it stop!"

"William B., do I turn up here?"

"Yeah, yeah, turn!"

The panic in the car dulled for a moment, as William B. turned the map left and right. "... Uh oh."

"... Uh oh?"

"... I don't think we were supposed to turn there."

"WHAT?!" Three out of four occupants of the car yelled in unison, shortly before Sammy howled in pain again. Bobby immediately turned his attention to his fiance, while Skip opted to yell, "There's nowhere to turn around, man, we're in the middle of nowhere!"

"Yeah, I noticed!" William B. answered. "Shit, shit, shit..."

"We've been driving for an hour and a half, William!" Skip glanced at his watch. "We gotta be runnin' out of time, man, what do we do?!"

"I don't know! Why are you asking me everything?!" William B. closed the map in time for another cry from the backseat. "Sammy, buddy, it's gonna be alright, one way or another we'll get this overwith safe, I promise-"

"STOP TALKING!" Sammy sobbed helplessly, as Bobby dabbed sweat from his forehead. He sobbed helplessly for a few moments, trembling. Overheated and desperate for relief, he wrestled with his shirt for a minute. "Bobby... please..."

"Babe, you sure about that? I mean-"

"I don't CARE! Get it OFF!" Bobby complied with Sammy's demand and continued to silently offer as much reassurance as he could. Looking up at Skip and William B. desperately, he mouthed 'figure something out' as the men in the front seat continued to panic.

Another 45 minutes passed, with the car continuing to go in circles. Sammy was well beyond the point of being able to speak, pale and shaking with each wave of agony. This was what hell was. He was convinced this was hell. He gripped Bobby's sleeve and screamed, digging his fingers into his fiance's arm through the fabric.

Bobby continued to stroke Sammy's hair, looking up at his brother and William in the front. "Do you have any idea where we are?!"

"Not a one," Skip responded, panic evident in his voice. "Mississippi still, I hope."

"You HOPE?!"

"I mean, we've been driving a long time, Herschel, we could be in Tennessee for all I know!"

For the first time in a while, Sammy spoke coherently. "N-not gonna make it."

"What?"

"D-doesn't matter-" a cry of pain- "where the hospital is! S'too late!"

"... Oh, no." Skip sounded like he was about to cry.

"Can't you hold it in for a little longer, sweetheart?!"

"That isn't how it works!" William B. snapped. "Skip, pull the car over!"

Skip pulled the car to the shoulder of the road and parked it. "Are we seriously gonna do this?!"

"We don't have much of a choice, do we?" William B. opened the passenger side door. "Give me your jacket."

Skip removed his jacket. "What do you need that for?"

"Something to wrap the baby in."

"Why can't you use yours?!"

"Too big." William B.'s responses were concise as he took Skip's suit jacket and opened the back door. "Sam, buddy, it's gonna be alright, but... we gotta get those pants off."

At least they were just sweatpants, Sammy thought, managing to worm them down with his underwear.

"Alright. Well, this is way more intimate than I ever wanted to be with you, but..."

"Maybe I should-"

"Nooooooooo." William B. cut Bobby off before he could finish his sentence. "You stay right where you are. You got him into this mess, you help him through it." He turned his attention back to where it needed to be. "Listen to your body, Sam."

Sammy gripped Bobby's hand tight, sobbing quietly. "I can't do this," he whispered hoarsely, panting. "I can't do this."

"You can, you can," William B. said softly, kneeling in the wet grass at the side of the road. Skip peered over his shoulder, going pale at the sight.

"There's... so much blood."

"Yeah, there usually is. Sammy, bud, you feel anything? Like you need to push?" A nod. "Then push."

Bobby winced as Sammy practically crushed his hand, bearing down with a scream that could only be described as bloodcurdling.

"Atta boy," William B. murmured. "That's it. Push!"

Bobby let out a whimper of his own at the again-crushing sensation in his hand. "Jesus, sweetheart, let up a little-"

Sammy, exhausted and in the middle of labor, still had enough fire in him to swing his fist back and sock Bobby in the nose. Bobby's free hand, previously carding through Sammy's hair, went up and clutched at his now-bleeding nose. "Jeebus!" he exclaimed, looking down Sammy's body at William B. "He punched be in by dose!"

"You had it coming. You have no room to bitch about your hand hurting." William looked back down and smiled. "You're doing great, Sam, I see the head! Jeez, your kid has some hair..."

"THAT'S the head?!" Skip felt like he was looking at a train crash. He didn't want to look, but he couldn't not look. "Is it supposed to look like that?!"

"Well, it's the top of the head."

"Oh my god." Skip took a step back. "That's..."

"It's childbirth, Skip, it's gonna be gross." William B. readied the impromptu blanket. "Push, Sam."

Bobby, whose nose stopped pouring blood, wiped his hand on his pants and returned it to Sammy's hair. "You're doin' good," he whispered, kissing Sammy's forehead gently. He didn't complain as his hand was crushed again, as much as he wanted to.

"Atta boy!" William B. repeated. "The head's out, Sammy!"

"Th-the head's out?"

"Yeah, you're doing great! Next part's the hard part, then it's all downhill, alright?"

"THAT was the easy part?!"

"Just push!"

If the next scream had been just a few decibels louder, Bobby thought, all the windows in the car would have shattered. He winced but said nothing, practically feeling the agony viscerally at this point. "How much longer, William?"

"One more, you're almost done! This one's easy!"

One more push, one more hand-shattering squeeze, and one more agonized cry, one from an adult, followed by a very obviously infantile scream.

"You're done, bud, you're a dad!" William B. wrapped the squirming, crying infant in Skip's jacket and placed it on Sammy's chest. "It's a girl, guys, you had a girl!"

A girl. Sammy, with sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, smiled at his newborn daughter with tears in his eyes. A flood of emotions washed over him- fear, pride, awe, and above all, relief. It was over. "Bobby... it's a girl..." He laughed softly, the tears spilling down his face. "Dewdrop's a girl."

"I heard, sweetheart," Bobby whispered, his voice cracking. He gently brushed a finger over his daughter's cheek reverently. "She's perfect."

From outside, as the rain let up, Bobby swore he heard Skip say "I'm never getting the deposit back on this car."


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything's going to be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE SAPPY DAD BOBBY BITTMAN OKAY. Thanks so much for sticking with me through this and be on the lookout for more of the Bittman-Maudlins, because I love this dumb family and everything about them.

Dewdrop Bittman was born at 12:09 AM on April 8th, 1981, six pounds even and 20 inches, with a head of black curls and eyes the color of dark chocolate. Her little hands grasped fingers readily and her appetite was healthy. Wrapped safely in her uncle's suit jacket until a hospital was eventually located (all of ten minutes down the road- in the moment it was horrifying, but looking back, it was hilarious), Bobby accompanied her to be weighed and have her vitals taken for the first time. She protested heartily and healthily to the cold scale and stethoscope, even to the bath she was given.

Wrapped in her little pink blanket, she was handed to Bobby for the first time after her bath. His eyes filled with tears of pride as he gently kissed her forehead. "How did I make you?" he asked quietly, instinct telling him to rock her slowly. Dewdrop made a small noise and opened her eyes ever so slightly. They were the same color as Bobby's.

He couldn't deny that this kid was his. He didn't know why he'd ever want to. The love was immediate. Gently, so incredibly gently, he carried her back to Sammy's room, settling in beside his fiance's bed with their daughter. "She's perfect, Sam."

"She better be after all she put me through." Sammy smiled a little, exhaustedly, and gently brushed a curl off of Dewdrop's forehead. "... I think we should head home after this, though. I dunno about you, but I don't wanna be in a car again for a while."

"I hear you."

Melonville was just a couple of train rides away. The cats displayed little interest in Dewdrop, even after she was laid in her crib- the little yellow crib with the cheerful duckling theme- to sleep. It didn't take her parents long to follow her into sleep.

Sammy didn't get much of it. Up every couple of hours each night to feed or change the baby, he groaned softly at roughly 6 am on April 11th. "I might die before she's a week old at this rate."

"I'll take care of it, sweetheart," Bobby murmured sleepily. "Go back to sleep." He climbed out of bed and walked into Dewdrop's nursery, gently scooping her up. "What's the matter, angel, huh?"

She whimpered and sneezed, then seemed to settle down. Bobby laughed softly, glanced out the window at the rising sun, and carried his daughter to the front porch, settling into the glider sitting there. It was an unseasonably warm morning, the sun tinging the sky tones of pink and gold.

Dewdrop relaxed against Bobby's chest and dozed off, lulled by his heartbeat. Bobby felt a warm breeze brush over him, rustling the sprouting leaves as the rising sun continued painting the sky its reddish palette.

He took a deep breath, gazing out over the dewy grass in the yard.

Dewdrop Bittman was everything he'd dreamed she would be and more. He hummed a slightly off-key lullaby as he rocked gently, the baby tight in his grip.

He couldn't believe he'd ever been scared of this. It felt natural. Right. She fit perfectly into his arms. Bobby held her a little tighter, a little more protectively, and watched a rabbit bounce across the yard.

Life was beautiful.


End file.
